


Past the Tipping Point

by hellhounds4sale



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Object Insertion, PWP, Vibrators, feat hannibal lecter's terrible psychiatric advice, vague hints of medical kink if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhounds4sale/pseuds/hellhounds4sale
Summary: “What exactly are you suggesting Doctor Lecter?” Will asks his voice surprisingly calm considering the unease rushing through him. There's no way Hannibal Lecter is hinting at what Will thinks he is. Hannibal watches him in consideration for a moment before replying.“I believe sexual release may be beneficial in easing some of your symptoms. As masturbation is not an option, I'm offering my assistance.”





	Past the Tipping Point

"Do you masturbate Will?"

"I'm sorry?" The spluttered explosion of Will's reply is shockingly loud in the calm of Hannibal's office and if he wasn't so thrown by the question Will would wince as the sound of it seems to echo off the high walls. Hannibal regards him with the same professionally blank expression he always wears and Will's half convinced he imagined the question by the time Hannibal speaks again.

"Do you masturbate? I only ask because a number of the symptoms you mention could be explained by sexual frustration. You haven't mentioned a partner.” He leaves the sentence open, leading.

“I'm not seeing anyone.” He forces out from behind gritted teeth, his gaze fixed on a point just above the doctor's right shoulder.

Hannibal tilts his head slightly, an innocuous enough move but it shifts his face into the corner of Will's vision and it _feels_ calculated. His silence is patient but pointed, and it lights a flare of annoyance in Will's chest. For a moment he considers ignoring the rest of the question, but from the corner of his vision, Hannibal is watching him in such a way that sends prickles of... _something_ down Will's spine.

“No. I don't.” Annoyance makes Will bold for a moment and his gaze snaps across to lock with Hannibal's. If he's hoping for a reaction he doesn't get one, Hannibal simply smiles, as cool and as collected as ever.

"Is it a moral issue-"

"I've no issues with it Dr. Lecter. It's just not something that works for me." Will interrupts, tone clipped with his irritation. This is not a conversation he wanted to have today, it's not one he _ever_ wants to have.

"Could you explain what you mean by that?" Hannibal asks like it's a perfectly reasonable question. Will considers refusing, it's _really_ not something he wants to discuss, but honestly, some morbid little part of him is curious to see just how far past professionalism Dr. Lecter's willing to take this topic. So he sets his jaw, clenches his fists and fixes his gaze on the arm of Hannibal's chair instead.

"It just doesn't. On the rare occasion that I manage to finish on my own, I don't find it satisfying. It's just usually more effort than it's worth."

"Do you encounter the same issues when you're with a partner?" Hannibal asks, one eyebrow rising just fractionally at the rough bark of laughter that draws from Will.

"No. No issues there.” Which isn't technically a lie, it's just that finding someone he's actually willing to take to his bed is even more of an issue.

"I see," Hannibal says, and god help him Will thinks he actually _does_ understand. “Well, in that case might I suggest we try an alternative option?”

“What exactly are you suggesting Doctor Lecter?” Will asks his voice surprisingly calm considering the unease rushing through him. There's no way _Hannibal Lecter_ is hinting at what Will thinks he is. Hannibal watches him in consideration for a moment before replying.

“I believe sexual release may be beneficial in easing some of your symptoms. As masturbation is not an option, I'm offering my assistance.”

“You're offering to, what, jack me off?” Will says, incredulous. “As my _doctor_.”

Hannibal grimaces. “I'd not have chosen such crass terminology, but essentially yes. I am.”

“You-” Will breaks off with a disbelieving laugh, and buries his face in his hands. This is ridiculous. “You know most people would just tell me to go get laid.”

The silence across from him feels almost insulted and Will risks lifting his head to glance over. Hannibal gazes back at him, a look of faint disappointment etched across his face. Definitely insulted then, and despite the absolute absurdity of the situation Will still somehow feels sort of bad about that.

“You'll have to forgive me Will,” Hannibal says eventually, tone clipped. “You've said you have no current partner and I didn't take you for the sort to enjoy casual dalliances.”

“As opposed to the sort that fucks their doctor?” Will snaps, faintly stung by Hannibal's implication.

“That was not what I was suggesting. I am offering to help you achieve orgasm through manual stimulation as a form of treatment only. I do not intend to receive any sexual gratification myself through this act.”

Will doesn't have a response to that. He feels wrong-footed by the whole conversation, alarmed that this is even something being suggested and, more worryingly, unsettled by how much a tiny part of him finds the idea oddly appealing. He knows Hannibal's attractive, and Will's never had any issue with his attraction to men as well as women, so it's not really surprising that he's entertained the thought of Hannibal in his bed more than once since meeting the man. This though, this is pushing way past any and all boundaries of professionalism, and they both know it.

When he risks a glance at Hannibal, he's watching him again. There's a faint smile playing around the corners of Hannibal's lips, and something about that sight sends Will's stomach into knots. Despite himself, he can't help but think about it. About Hannibal touching him, those clever hands pressed against his skin, about Hannibal watching him as intently as he is now and how it would feel to have-

His phone buzzes with an incoming message, startling Will from his thoughts and he scrabbles to check his phone while willing his face not to heat in response. The text message isn't actually anything important, just a reminder from his vet about an upcoming check-up, but it's the perfect excuse to duck out of a conversation he's too flustered to properly process right now. Will mumbles a vague excuse, eyes trained on his phone and scrambles to his feet.

Hannibal stands with him, helps Will into his coat with steady, professional hands, and Will tries very hard not to flinch at the casual touch. He only partly succeeds. Hannibal shows no obvious response, though his hands fall swiftly from where they've been smoothing Will's coat down across his shoulders.

"We can continue this conversation in our next session. Do consider it in the meantime Will." He sounds so reasonable like there's nothing at all wrong with offering to provide him with, with... _manual stimulation_. Like it's something Hannibal would offer any of his patients and for some reason, Will's skin crawls at that thought. He gives Hannibal a smile that feels hollow even to him and mutters something that could be mistaken as a vaguely agreeable sound as he flees the office.

Will has no intention of considering it.

He really doesn't. The thought lingers though, Hannibal's words echo in his head at night, over his morning coffee, rise unbidden to whisper softly through his head when he's in the middle of a lecture. Will's more than used to intrusive thoughts and the longer this one lingers the more appealing it starts to sound.

He buries himself in cold cases and in remaking his lecture sideshows. Takes the dogs on walks so long and winding that even his faithful companions start to flag at the idea of more. Anything to stop the thoughts of Hannibal's offer from invading his every waking moment. He's fighting a losing battle from the start though, and the closer his next appointment looms the more his mind chews at it. Will considers canceling but the thought of doing so sits uncomfortably in his gut like he's swallowed an ice cube. An entire tray of ice cubes. It's not until he's stood outside of Hannibal's office door that Will finally knows the answer he's going to give.

Even then, there's a moment between knocking and Hannibal answering the door where Will honestly considers running. The tightness in his stomach is enough to delay movement however and by then Hannibal's already taking his coat and it's too late to flee. Still, the soft click of the door shutting behind them sounds like the snap of a trap springing shut to Will's overtaxed nerves.

He follows Hannibal's routine of politeness through muscle memory more than anything else. Takes his seat, and echoes the social pleasantries Hannibal lives by, brain fogged over with anxiety and something very much like anticipation.

"Have you given any thought to my proposition?" Hannibal asks. The question takes a moment for Will to process through the daze and then he nods shakily, throat working as he swallows.

"Yes. I... yes I have." Will manages to say and if he was hoping for a reaction there's little forthcoming as Hannibal simply continues to look back at him.

"And your conclusion?"

Much as Will would like to be surprised that Hannibal's doing this as difficultly as possible, he really can't be. He smiles grimly instead. "That I'm willing to give your suggestion a go. Though I'm not sure how effective it will be." He can't resist the dig, and the small smile Hannibal gives him in response sends a faint fluttering of unease through Will's chest. It's gone the next second however as Hannibal leans forward in his seat.

"I'm glad to hear that Will, I think you'll find the treatment very beneficial." Hannibal pauses, turning to glance at the clock on his desk. "You're my last appointment for the evening, would you like to try it now?"

"Now?"

"Unless you'd rather wait until your next appointment?"

"No. No, now is fine." Will spits out, awash in nerves and growing excitement.

"Would you care for a drink?" Hannibal asks, already half turned to fetch something. Despite the dry click of his throat when he swallows Will shakes his head. While a drink might steady them, Will wants to get this started before he loses his nerve and turns tail and flees. Something of that must show on his face because Hannibal simply nods and heads towards a door in the back of his office.

"If you would follow me then," Hannibal says as he opens the door and ushers Will into the room. It's small and as opulently decorated as any of Hannibal's spaces are. There's something oddly soothing about that fact, and Will feels himself relaxing slightly even as the anticipation in his stomach builds. He takes a seat on the sofa Hannibal directs him towards, the fabric of it slick and cool under his palms. Hannibal picks up a plain wooden box from the side table next to him, and Will's eyes fix on it nervously.

“If you'd remove your trousers and then lie back we can begin,” Hannibal says, striding back across the room box in hand. Will toes out of his shoes easily enough but then hesitates, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of the situation. Hannibal pauses in pulling a chair across to the side of the sofa to consider him carefully. “Have you changed your mind Will?”

“No,” Will swallows, rising jerkily to his feet, his hands hovering anxiously at his waistband. “No, it's just...”

“It's quite alright.” Hannibal regards him sympathetically. He sets the box on the ground by their feet and steps in closer to Will. “Are you sure you don't want that drink?” He asks, brushing aside Will's hands and reaching in to open the button of Will's jeans himself. Will freezes, hands outstretched awkwardly and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of Doctor Lecter opening his fly. There's something both obscene and utterly appealing about it.

Hannibal's thumb brushes against the flesh just above his waistband and Will breaths in sharply through his teeth as the sensation sends a spike of arousal straight to his rapidly hardening cock. Hannibal looks up at the sound and his eyes catch Will's. He feels trapped, caught between Hannibal's gaze and the heavy press of his hands against Will's hips. The moment feels loaded, more significant than such a casual arrangement should be.

Will isn't a fool though, he's known from the get-go that this could never really be something casual. Nothing between Hannibal and him ever could be. Especially not something as intimate as this. Hannibal's hands burn like a brand against his skin as he hooks his thumbs into the top of Will's waistband and a moment later Will's erection springs free as his pants and underwear puddle to the ground around his feet.

Something not unlike triumph flashes across Hannibal's face for just a moment and he sways ever so slightly closer to Will, close enough for the heady scent of his aftershave to fill Will's senses before he steps back sharply.

"You obviously have no problem with achieving an erection. That's good," Hannibal says, his voice pleased and Will's face heats with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Are you ready to continue?"

Will has to swallow before he can speak, and when he does his voice comes out a faint croak of agreement. Hannibal's head tilts faintly to the side and then he smiles, a small, smug thing with just a hint of teeth. Will shivers.

"Good," he says. "Then if you could please lie down, we can begin."

Will scrambles to comply, legs suddenly feeling leaden and wobbly all at the same time. The slick fabric of the sofa sticks slightly to the bare skin of his ass and he shifts uncomfortably before settling back, his breath catching in his throat at the sensation.

Hannibal moves his chair closer to the sofa, taking his own seat next to Will's hips and then leans forward to push Will's shirt up and then places his hands against Will's stomach. He pauses at Will's flinch but doesn't remove his hands and Will can't help the shudder that wrecks through his body a moment later.

"Are you all right Will?" Hannibal asks. His fingers twitch as he does so, the pads pressing ever so slightly into Will's skin in a way that sends little sparks of arousal down to his groin.

"Fine." Will says, and has to bite back a moan when Hannibal instantly slides his hands down Will's hips in response. He strokes down the length of Will's thighs, thumbs brushing across the sensitive skin of his inner thighs in passing and then back up to follow the faint line of Will's treasure trail to his stomach. Hannibal's hands are slow and steady and he's as calmly composed as ever even as his touch coaxes Will rapidly to full hardness. It is, infuriatingly, one of the hottest things Will's ever experienced.

“I'm going to touch you properly now Will,” Hannibal says, and it's the only warning Will gets before Hannibal wraps one large, hot palm around his cock. Will moans, low and broken and his hips press up into the touch unbidden.

Hannibal's hand tightens around his cock and strokes up the length of it without hesitation, the pad of his thumb rubbing across the slit firmly. The sound that breaks from Will's throat is obscene even to his ears and he twists, lifting his arms to hide his face in the crook of his elbow. Hannibal tuts, and reaches with his free hand to pull Will's arm away from his face.

"Now Will, none of that. I need to be able to see your face to properly judge your responses," He chides gently, hand still stroking steadily along the length of Will's cock and, true to his words, when Will risks a glance Hannibal's gaze is fixed directly on his face. "Besides there's no reason to be embarrassed, these reactions are perfectly normal and desired.” As he speaks Hannibal moves his hand down to cradle Will's balls, rolling them softly in his palm.

“Fuck.” Will hisses out from between his teeth, knees jerking up in response. The move leaves him more exposed and Hannibal takes advantage of it, sliding his hand further back to press at the sensitive flesh behind Will's balls at the same time as he squeezes at the base of his cock. Will moans and shudders. “Jesus fuck, Hannibal.”

"I think we're ready to move on," Hannibal announces, voice gratifyingly rough, and Will has to fight back a whine when he gives Will's cock one last stroke before pulling away. Hannibal pats at Will's hip in parting before leaning down to pick up the box from beside his chair. He removes a bottle of lube and a pair of surgical gloves from it and then pauses. "You're not allergic to latex are you Will?"

"No," Will says, eyes locked on the bottle of lube and heat pooling in his gut. His erection twitches enthusiastically and Hannibal smirks.

"Good," He slides the gloves on with practiced ease and the faint snap of rubber against skin. "If you could spread your thighs for me then."

Will swallows heavily and shifts into position as best he can on the confines of the sofa. Hannibal observes him critically for a moment before moving to grab one of the sofa's throw pillows. With a bit of maneuvering, he settles it under Will's hips. It leaves him exposed even further to Hannibal's gaze and Will's breathing quickens, his head swimming with arousal. He swears he can feel Hannibal's eyes on him, heavy and intimate and _god_ , Will knows there will be no stepping back from this moment. Dimly, he wonders if Hannibal knows it too.

The snick of the lube bottle opening starts Will from his thoughts. His stomach tightens as he watches Hannibal coat the fingers of one hand with it. Hannibal grasps his thigh, parting his legs further and presses lube slick fingers between his cheeks to rub teasingly against his hole. Will curses, rocks up against the pressure greedily, and swears again when Hannibal only moves back in response, tracing circles around the rim of his ass with the pad of his index finger. There's something viciously gleeful in the way Hannibal continues to tease, every time Will tries to move closer he slides away leaving Will whining in frustration.

“Would you fucking do it already?” Will snaps, desperation getting the better of him.

“Language.” Hannibal chides, and finally presses a finger in, a slick slide that has Will trembling, neck arched back as he breathes curses out from between clenched teeth. It's been far too long since he's had anything inside him and he can't help but clench down against the intrusion.

"Relax Will." Hannibal soothes, free hand reaching to stoke along Will's cock again. The pleasure soothes out what little discomfort there was and Will shifts, hips riding up against Hannibal's hand. Hannibal moves with him, working him open with slow, steady pressure until his finger sinks easily in and out of Will's hole. He's patient, pausing whenever Will can't help but clench against him again, rubbing soothingly across Will's hip or the straining flesh of his erection until he relaxes once more.

When Hannibal starts to press a second finger into him Will jolts in response. There's an almost electric tingle spreading through his limbs that leaves Will quivering, hands scrabbling against the smooth fabric of the sofa with a desperate need to ground himself. Hannibal's speaking, the tone soothing but Will can't focus on the words past the heavy pounding of blood in his ears. Hannibal's free hand moves to press down on his stomach, holding him still as both fingers sink fully into him and then pauses as Will's body clenches down around the intrusion. The hand on his stomach rubs soothingly and Will jerks his own hand up to join it, fingers latching tight around Hannibal's wrist.

“Relax,” Hannibal says again. Will nods, swallows hard and focuses on letting his body relax back into the press of Hannibal's fingers.

A moment later and Hannibal starts moving again, working Will open with clinical, precise movements. Before long Will's loose-limbed once more, hips rolling into the sensation and desperately trying to bite back the moans that want to slip past his teeth. He hardly notices the third finger when it's added, lost in the haze of pleasure, in the slick slide of Hannibal's fingers inside him and the sweet ache of being stretched open. The heavy warmth of Hannibal's hand on his stomach keeps him in place, pressing him back down whenever Will's hips rise too far, and the feel of the tendons in Hannibal's wrist flexing under Will's hand when he does so is oddly soothing.

Hannibal's fingers slide from him with a wet squelch that has Will whining softly in the back of his throat. Hannibal pats soothingly at his hip briefly and then sits back in his chair as he strips off his latex gloves. He replaces them with a fresh pair and while Will's pretty sure the clinical detachment of the moment should be a turn-off, it's somehow the complete opposite. From the faintly knowing smile on Hannibal's face, his reaction has not gone unnoticed.

“Shall we continue?” Hannibal asks, and Will can only nod in response, his voice a faint whine when he tries to speak.

Hannibal removes a slim vibrator from the box this time, and Will's too worked up to try and bite back his moan at the sight of it. Hannibal takes his time coating it thoroughly in lube, his gaze steady on Will's face as he does so. Will swallows heavily, bites at his already tender bottom lip and lifts his hips up pointedly.

“Come on,” he says, voice heavy with desperation.

“Patience,” Hannibal says, even as he moves to press the smooth head of the vibrator against Will's hole. He rests it there for a moment as Will's impatience grows and then it's pressing into Will, the plastic shockingly cool and hard compared to Hannibal's fingers. The vibrators slightly curved and Hannibal wields it as skilfully as he does anything else until the tip of it presses firmly against Will's prostate.

Will whines, a low sound that practically oozes out of him as Hannibal's hand wraps around his cock again. He strokes once up the length of it and then the vibrator clicks on and Will wails, hips lifting frantically into the air only for Hannibal to push them back down again. It's good. It's really good. Better than Will can remember it ever feeling, and that doesn't seem right but there's something about the fact that it's _Hannibal_ doing this that makes everything so much more intense. Will gasps breathless sobs and his fingers grip white-knuckled at the arm of the sofa to stop himself from hiding his face in his hands instead.

Hannibal's silent as he pulls Will apart with clever hands and a faint look of amused concentration. He works the toy in and out of Will expertly, twisting it just so that the head of it presses firmly against Will's prostate on every stroke. It's altogether too much and not at all enough and Will moans pitifully, bites at his lips and wishes silently that it was Hannibal's cock inside him and not a plastic toy instead. He works his hips up into it anyway, trying to press the toy deeper before rocking back up into Hannibal's grip around his cock desperately.

"Good," Hannibal says, so softly Will almost misses it. His voice is low, a rough growl of a thing, and that's enough to have Will's eyes snapping open in response. His gaze locks with Hannibal's, and for a moment he's drowning in emotions he's too far gone to properly translate. Then Hannibal's thumb presses in under the head of his cock, his nail scraping down against delicate flesh and Will comes.

His back arches, muscles in his stomach clenching tight as his orgasm shakes through him. He's not come this hard in ages, in fact, he's not sure he remembers ever doing so. It feels all consuming, like wildfire through his veins that leaves him gasping out pained little grunts and trembling in its wake. Hannibal strokes him through it, hand firm as it milks the last of his release from his cock, the vibrator twisted so it's pressed firmly against Will's prostate. Will spirals high and then collapses back against the sofa, a panting, quivering mess, dizzy with the strength of his own orgasm.

Will jolts back to awareness at the swipe of a wet cloth across his stomach. His limbs feel heavy and languid when he tries to sit up and eventually he gives in, settling back against the sofa as Hannibal wipes him clean.

“How do you feel?” Hannibal asks.

“Good,” Will replies, it takes him a moment to gather himself together before he tries to sit up again. Hannibal helps him up with a hand on his upper arm this time and Will murmurs his thanks softly.

“More relaxed?”

“Yeah,” It's true, he does feel better. Alight and loose with the afterglow of a really good orgasm. He can still feel the writhing darkness that's always there in the back of his mind but for now it's muted behind a pleasant haze. “I feel... better put together.”

“I'm glad,” Hannibal says as he stands, offering a hand to help Will to his feet. Will sways slightly as blood rushes back to his legs, and Hannibal's hand moves to his elbow in support. It feels possessive and protective and Will's suddenly very aware of the line they've just crossed. When he risks a glance over at the other man, Hannibal's smile is a sharp flash of white and Will feels the flush of embarrassment working up his neck in response.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice a rough croak, desperate for something to break the sudden tension of the moment. Hannibal lets go of his elbow, stepping back to reach down and pick up Will's jeans and boxers before handing them over. Will flushes, scrambling back into his clothes with burning cheeks and his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

“There's no need to be embarrassed Will,” Hannibal says, stopping Will with a hand on his forearm. “I'm pleased this exercise was able to help you.” His hand brushes lingeringly against Will's arm as he pulls away and Will glances back up at the touch. Taking in the way Hannibal's pupils are still blown wide, the light flush high on his cheekbones and the trace impression of teeth marks on his lips.

Will swallows softly, a more gentle warmth pooling in his belly at the evidence of just how pleased Hannibal was to help, and he's suddenly stuck by how much he doesn't want this to be a one time thing. The linger of afterglow making him bold, Will steps closer to Hannibal until he can just catch the faint scent of his aftershave, and carefully lifts his own hand to rest briefly against Hannibal's forearm.

“Maybe next time we could find somewhere more comfortable than your office sofa?” It's not even slightly subtle and for a moment Will worried he's overstepped his bounds when Hannibal face goes very still. Then Hannibal smiles, sharp and white and captivating, and reaches out to take hold of Will's elbow once more.

“I'm sure that can be arranged my dear Will.”

 


End file.
